Chapter 40

Forty

T he diamond stars twinkled above, whispering secrets across the vast, shadowed expanse. The church bells of St. Grace Cathedral struck midnight, and Emrys stepped onto the dais to give his speech celebrating the loss in the Blood Rebellion at the Illusion ceremony.

The ceremony was a moment of breath for Quinn. A moment to process her reeling emotions and the fact that the last three years of her life were a lie.

The last nineteen years.

The ground shifted, and everything was hanging off-axis.

She didn't know how to move forward.

Quinn stood with the palace's retinue behind the gilded dais between her best friend and the girl who made life torture. Giselle and Countess Teagan. Quinn was utterly confused about why the prince wanted her to be among his palace's guests.

The violet-capped train of Quinn's dress swayed in a frigid late autumn breeze. Draped from her shoulders was an onyx velvet dress with a sweetheart neckline. The violet train flowed from the dress's back, adding a pop of subtle color. Despite its simplicity, the dress had a seductive shape. Emrys dressed her as a modest princess who shined more brilliantly than the elegant, uninvolved dress she wore.

Giselle and the countess, on the other hand, wore over-the-top designs. The countess in a canary yellow ensemble, complete with an armored bodice, and Giselle in a red sandstone piece that made her look like a gilded sculpture.

Jevon, per usual, managed to make his suit look loose, ruffled, and worn.

As Emrys's speech drew to a close, he held out his arm, inviting his retinue onto the stage. The group slowly gathered by his side, Quinn trying to hide in the back and out of the view of journalists, who'd been enjoying writing salacious articles about her and the prince.

There was no need to give them more cannon fodder.

No. Little ballerina, by my side. Emrys's honeyed voice echoed in her mind, and she jolted. She tried to keep a happy mask on her face despite the emotions rolling up her spine. Hearing voices in her head was utterly impossible, jarring, and crazy-making.

It must have been a vampire ability that she'd never known about before.

On the inside, she let out a very elaborate cuss and stared at him like you have to be kidding me . He couldn't have warned her about this before.

He winked. By my side, little ballerina. Let's give them something to talk about.

I hope you're not serious.

I always am, except when I am not.

He'd heard her thoughts too. What in the world?

Not now, I'll explain later. He held out his arm, waiting for her. And now everyone seemed to notice the silent looks between them. She searched the crowd, the camera flashbulbs raging as journalists frantically wrote on their notepads. Now, if she didn't comply, it would look horrible, so she forced a sweet, candy smile on her face and strolled over to the prince and took his hand .

I am going to kill you later for this. She flashed a twinkling gaze before turning back to the crowd.

I am sure I'd enjoy you trying , he said in her mind before turning to the crowd. "We honor all of the fallen, all of those who gave their lives to make New Swansea a safe country, free of the tyrannical rule of vampires."

Even this was a lie.

That's all vampires ever did. Lie .

A life built on lies. Constance—Seren—whatever her name was, was made for this life. She flawlessly performed deception, trickery, and murder.

Quinn's mouth tasted like acid, and she rolled her free fingers into a ball.

Emrys dropped her hand and motioned to a footman who handed him a bow and arrow. Once he nocked the arrow, he held it to the footman, who lit it on fire. Pulling the string back to his anchor point—his perfect mouth—he said, "Be with peace." Then he let loose the arrow, which cut through the air and perfectly hit the center funeral pyre floating on the lagoon.

Echoes of "be with peace" traveled through the crowd as more and more arrows flew through the air, hitting the 342 miniature funeral ships spreading across the lagoon. At that exact moment, the Mirror of Aurora awakened and released illusions into the midnight sky. Ten for each person lost in the war, each uniquely representing them. Some of the illusions were animals like doves and lions, others were lilies and roses, and others still were diamonds and lanterns. They climbed the night like fireflies dancing to the heavens, covering the horizon with speckled glowing paint.

The night sang with a somber beauty. A melody so soul-touching stole the sound from the festival, and people were so transfixed they refused to speak.

I like you in simple dresses, Emrys whispered into her mind, his focus on her instead of the brilliant spectacle in front of them.

She bit the inside of her cheek and averted her eyes, watching anything but the prince. She wouldn't like him. She couldn't want him because he'd never want her back. He'd never want only her—only one paramour.

You shine more when covered with elegance than feathers and sparkles , he said.

Why am I here, Emrys? she asked, still refusing to look at him.

He grinned and placed a hand on the small of her back—his touch electrifying. Because the world needs a distraction from the truth, from bodies with vampire markings and break-ins, and broken mirrors, and the papers have always been obsessed with me.

So, I am a distraction? She gulped, and an unfamiliar feeling raged in her bones. What's your purpose for me being here?

Tell me a secret, Quinnevere, he said, changing the subject.

"No," she breathed and finally opened her eyes to his.

I'll tell you a secret, not about who or what I am, but about me. His chestnut eyes glistened and reflected the dancing fire. My secret is that I don't want to want you. I'd prefer to have no feelings or desires altogether.

Confusion clenched her stomach. What did that even mean? Was he confessing to having feelings or just promising that he never would? Her palms grew clammy, and her mind fell into a spiral.

Anger prickled at her spine. He was using her—always using her. And she shouldn't have been surprised. He was a vampire, just like Seren. He used people for pleasure, for company, for answers, for a distraction. Quinn was no different.

She'd never be different.

And he'd used her earlier in the night, too. He brought her to the lion's den instead of taking her to Constance's room. He brought her to the vampire blood smuggling operation because he wanted answers from Constance. Emrys Avalon didn't care what Quinn wanted.

He only ever cared about himself.

If he was going to be cruel, then she didn't have to be friendly either .

I would also prefer to feel nothing for you. Her nose flared, but she didn't pull away from him.

"I know," he whispered into her ear, the touch of his lips sending shivers through her body. "Your feelings for me are written all over your face and in your words. You like science. You desire to experiment with me, but you'll never desire me."

"Good. We understand each other perfectly," she said, focusing back on the festival.

When they were safely inside the palace after the festival and out of earshot of everyone except Giselle and Jevon, Quinn rounded on the prince. "You can read my mind?"

"No," he said, a wicked and frustratingly arrogant smile lingering on his mouth. "I can hear the thoughts you project at me and vice versa because I marked you."

"And you thought instead of warning me or telling me you can do that, you'd surprise me in front of a public audience and news crews?"

His following six words were simple and made her want to murder him. "I wanted to see your expression."

Oh, she was angry. He'd used her, tricked her, and paraded her in front of New Swansea just to satiate some sick need of his to get a rise out of her—to play with her. And now she would be bonded to him for all eternity. This condescending, haughty, devilishly handsome prick. Nothing he'd done in the past few days had truly changed him. He only helped her solve Jane's murder for selfish reasons.

Always just about the paintings and the vampire agenda.

Emrys Avalon always was and always would be the arrogant, roguish prince. And she was so foolish to have let his stupid kisses soften her feelings toward him.

He chuckled softly. "Well, at least you think I am devilishly handsome."

"You heard that?" she asked, a vicious snake coiled in her stomach, waiting for the right moment to strike. And Quinn wanted to strike him.

"I can't help hearing it when you're shouting at me." He leaned against the wall and slid his hands into his pockets.

Quinn stepped in, about to confront the prince, when Giselle cleared her throat and reminded them of her presence. "As much fun as it is watching whatever this is"—she waved a hand at the prince and ballerina—"I need to set up the confetti bombs in the decorations along the walls and the lever release packages on the ceiling and the ignition spots, which could take me all night long. I need someone to help me do that."

Emrys wiped off his lapels. "We can help you."

From the shadows at the edge of the hall, appeared Teagan as if she had been summoned by magic. Given that Emrys could talk to his marked from mind to mind, she probably was indeed summoned.

"Do watch out," Emrys said, his eyes on his friend.

Giselle crossed her arms. "I am sure I'll be absolutely fine."

"Oh, I know you will be." His gaze touched Giselle's for a moment. "I was warning her about you. I've seen the way you talk to and about gangsters. Spoiled old Teagan doesn't stand a chance."

Teagan scoffed but didn't say a word.

"You're not staying," Quinn said with one hand on her wardrobe. She intended to get ready for bed after spending three hours helping Giselle in the ballroom, but Emrys wasn't leaving .

"I am." Emrys's mouth flattened into a hard line. "Someone has to stay in your room. Seren is danger—"

"I am well aware of the situation." Quinn crossed her arms and glared at him.

"Then you know exactly why I am staying in your room." He gracefully fell into the armchair.

She glowered at his perfectly quaffed hair and divinely styled suit. "Stop acting like I'm some defenseless doll you can play with."

He refused to answer. Instead, a taunting smile laced his lips, and he picked lint off his shirt.

"It's safer for me than it is for you," Quinn said. "Seren has your painting, but I don't hear us discussing your safety."

He squinted, his eyes whispering an emotion she couldn't read. "I am an immortal. I can handle it, and you are—"

"A fragile little human?" Quinn scoffed.

"Precisely."

A snake coiled in Quinn's stomach at his hurtful word as chills caressed her spine. "I am not as fragile as you believe."

"Every human is as fragile as I believe." He disappeared and reappeared at her side, leaning on her wardrobe. She tried not to flinch. She didn't want to prove his point. "I could snap your neck in a second, and you'd never see it coming." He reached out his arm to grasp her neck, but she swatted it away.

"Well, apparently, it doesn't matter because I am marked, and I'm gonna become a vampire whether I like it or not." She tilted her head up, her gaze a bloody machete.

A silence crawled between them—prickling and uncomfortable. Quinn reached out and grasped his hand and placed it around her neck. "So go ahead, snap my neck."

His fingers curled into a gentle caress as he drew his hand away. "Stop being so . . ."

"So . . . what? Cavalier? Like you always are?" she snapped. "I am sorry if I think it is funny that you of all people are lecturing me about my life when you're the one who stole it from me. "

That was not fair, and she knew it. She also knew that he'd asked for her permission. She was just lashing out because of everything. Seren . The murders. Her feelings. And the last thing she wanted to be was a vampire. If she were honest, she also lashed out because she felt herself getting too close to him. Feeling too much. And that couldn't happen.

To love someone was to give up too much control.

Intimacy, connection, friendship . . . it was a plague to the heart. So, she choose antagonism.

She breathed in a slow, steady breath, trying to calm herself.

"At least turn around so I can get dressed," Quinn said, pulling out the least glamorous négligé she could find, but this was the palace, so they were all glamourous.

When he'd fully turned around, she quickly undressed and threw on her sleeping attire. "What about Giselle and Jevon? Who is watching them?" she asked, closing her wardrobe.

"Teagan is staying in Giselle's room, and my second is with Jevon. They're safe, just like you." He emphasized his last words, making his earlier concern abundantly clear.

"Fine." She sighed, walked to her bed, and slid under the covers. Emrys returned to the armchair, and she felt his gaze on her like a living breathing thing.

She lay there and stared at the carved bedframe, trying to avoid the electric tension in the room.

Eventually, she said, "Are you going to sit on the chair all night?"

"Yes," he said slowly.

"Are you going to sleep in it?"

"Yes."

"That's foolish. Do vampires get kinks in their necks?"

"Yes."

Quinn shut her eyes tightly, knowing that she was going to regret her next words. "Sleep in the bed. Just don't touch me."

He chuckled. "If you insist."

"I do. "

He slowly laid down on top of the blankets as if not wanting to disturb her. For a while, they both stared up, neither wanting to say anything. Turning on her side, she made sure her back faced him.

His body felt close—too close. He tensed, clearly as uncomfortable as her. Quinn counted his rhythmic breaths. A soft, slow tempo. Controlled and steady. They were in contrast to hers, which were ragged and tight. Wild heartbeats pounded in her ears, and she knew he could hear them.

A flush crossed her skin.

Desire rippled through her stomach like eagles taking flight. She felt the phantom sensation of his lips on hers and how absolutely glorious he could be with his hands and tongue. And she wanted to feel it all again.

Her fingers hovered over her lips, desire a beast in her belly.

She wanted to roll over and kiss him, but instead, she said, "I'm sorry about the marking comment. That was not fair of me." She tensed, still on her side. She could apologize, but she couldn't do it while meeting his eyes. "I know that you saved me and extended my human life. I know that you asked before you did it." She sucked in a deep breath. "I—I lashed out."

He turned, his body warm and reassuring next to hers. She wanted more than anything to lean into him. To feel him against her. To let him comfort her.

"I was an overprotective asshole," he said, all his usual swagger gone. "I just—I don't want anything to happen to you."

Quinn inhaled sharply and rolled over, her eyes locking onto his. "I know. We were both being assholes."

"So, our normal?" He laughed, a brilliant, low sound that reverberated through her heart.

"Yes," she breathed.

The tension between them crescendoed. He leaned in and rested his forehead on hers, caressing her chin. A shiver ran through her whole body. Her want was slowly killing her inside. It was a living force, hungry, and demanding. But she wouldn't be the one to kiss him. He had to do it.

"Emrys." Her voice was soft like seduction, but she had no idea if she was seductive. "Will you touch me everywhere I touched you?"

A tense, needy silence lingered between them, and his eyes darkened to the shade of shadows, but he refused to lean in or say anything until . . .

"I promised I'd make you regret it." He flicked her nose softly and ruined the moment. "Go to sleep, Quinnevere. You have a big day tomorrow. We will find the mirror and capture our murderer. We'll have plenty of time later for me to ravish you."